


Dreams

by bj62



Category: Airwolf
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:59:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bj62/pseuds/bj62
Summary: merry christmas  This is just a vignette of love





	1. a simple wish

**Author's Note:**

> The need to write is everpresent. It is a coping skill. I am glad that you read my stories and this is in part a Thank you note.

Michael's mind was restless. Cait was sleeping beside him. He knew he had to be the luckiest man in the world. By rights she was too young for him, but she knew him like no other. She could look at him and sense his moods. It was a good thing she wasn't a foreign agent. He could not hide anything from her and he had tried on more than one occasion. She saw through his persona of Archangel and when he needed to use his skills, he knew he frightened her. He had been at it for too long.

That was why he couldn't sleep like the average person. He had taught himself to constantly be aware of his surroundings. When he was in the field it was a matter of life and death, and it wasn't always his own. 

In Nam he made an effort to save others, not only the men who were drafted, but informants. At one point he had believed it was a winnable war. The fall of Saigon had changed that. He was needed elsewhere. 

He loved the beauty of Russia and took pleasure in beating his counterpart Russian agent Mikail Rubinoff. At times it was so easy. During the first confrontation Mikail was unaware that Michael knew the language. He kept on letting him believe it, until he slipped. No big deal, Michael did not need that advantage. He loved the strategy involved. When he got too well known, his superiors removed him. He had become too valuable. 

He learned what he could. He showed respect to his superiors and was rewarded with promotions. He had an instinct for recruiting and that led to further advancement. When it was decided that a new agency should be formed, he was on the ground floor.

Unfortunately so was a man with the code name Zeus. Zues had more power and an instant dislike for the man who was the third Michael Coldsmith Briggs. Zeus had fought his way up without being one of the priveliged few. Zeus did not like how Michael stood out from a crowd with a spotless white suit. Michael, despite his penchant for white, could blend into whatever situation he was in.

Michael thought he was done with Zeus after the operation in Corpus Christie. He could not have been more wrong. Michael was taken hostage in Italy. It was Marella's diligence that led to his escape. It was Caitlin's persistence that brought him back to who he needed to be. It was Hawke's concern that led to the death of Mikail... Mikail who had caused him to lose a part of himself that he needed to survive. Their belief in him brought him back.

Now he was with the most important woman in his life. She could sleep. He had developed a need to touch her while he slept. He could sleep deeply with her in his arms or with some part of his anatomy touching her. 

But this time he woke. The dream wasn't real and it never could be. 

In his dream, he was whole. He was younger. He had both eyes. He could see her and love her like never before. He was in a navy blue tuxedo, and she was in a long silky white dress that showed a hint of her bosom. Rose petals were strewn in her path. Hawke was next to him. Dom was at her elbow. Her sister stood across the aisle. 

Next thing he knew he was beside her and the sun was just starting to set. He said the words and she said them in turn. They were now bonded to each other and she had his name. The kiss was a formality that sealed the bond. He wanted nothing more than for the kiss to lead to the bed he had covered with rose petals and let their scent fill the room as Pearl lay sleeping on the corner (she had enough of people).

The ritual was the same, but more special because she was there. She kept touching him making sure this was real.

The guests left and he stood before her, without a scar on his body. Both of his blue eyes stared lovingly at her lips, her hips and finally those eyes that spoke more than words could ever say.

He did not bother to remove her dress, but he was gloriously naked, sliding his hands where they may. They quenched their passion and made it to the bed...

"Michael are you OK?" she asked as she touched his arm.

"I am real... as real as you need me to be." he said and started to touch her body.

Nothing was more real than the here and now. Nothing was more real than her.

 

finis


	2. Her perspective

She was in his arms and that was the only place she wanted to be. The cologne he wore lingered in the air and it suited him. His disregard for nudity when they were alone with each other...

From that first night when she said the right thing. The scars made him who he was. In her eyes they enhanced the man who could please a woman before he pleased himself, and in turn please himself in the pleasing of a woman.

To think that he thought of himself as damaged goods, after the accident that nearly took his life. That was why that first time was played out in shadows. And play it was, with humor and the huskiness. The joy he found in discovering those spots that would make her quiver. She returned those touches a thousand fold.''

At first it was the newness and the excitement of someone who was rugged and still had a physique, despite the injuries. It turned into something else after the newness wore off. There would be times when it was like a wild wind storm and times where it started out slow. She would kiss his neck as he was doing paperwork, but only if the office door was open. He would spin the chair around and drape her in his lap, He would play with her breasts as he hardened and kissed her... teasing her lips slowly with his tongue and feeling her shiver with a want and a need.

She found herself seeing him with her heart. In dreams he would be seeing her with both of his blue eyes and on strong legs. Sometimes he had something ready to greet her and that wonderful strong back would pick her up and she would touch that wonderful backside while they made it to the bed.

The eagerness of their love making would change to the slowness and wonder and the feel of it all.

In dreams he would pound into her as her breasts were pressed against the coolness of the tile while the heat of his member would slide in her crack before entering her core.

He didn't tease but it would slow it down to make it more intense.

He felt comfortable with her. From the first when she realized the scars were symbols of his survival. She had seen pictures of him before the accident and he was a fine specimen. He could have had any woman with that type of physique and strength that was hidden beneath the clothes.

She hoped that he didn't choose her just because she accepted who he had become. She dare not ask.

Italy changed that. FInding him covered in manure and helpless. So many cuts and bruises and realizing that she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her. She needed him to be her white knight. It did not matter what he wore as long as he had his strength.

That was what love was. It was the joy of giving. It was the relief when you saw the one you love love you back. It was the nights together and knowing that someone was there with just a touch. The smile you saw when he thought no one was looking. It was the quiet times or the times when a crisis occured and the arms were there to enfold you when you needed it most.

She remembered that when you deserve it least you need compassion most. Michael. She knew he would be there when she could not contain her joy or her grief.

She loved him for so many things. He seldom made fun of her, or the way she would pick at her toes. He would take her hand just for the comfort of it. It was those touches that mattered most.

Love was such a small word for something that encompassed so much.

She touched his cheek lightly and then slowly clasped his hand. She felt the fingers entwine with hers and smiled. She got closer to his body. He was flat on his back and her ministrations were having the desired effect.

He opened his good eye.

"Bad dream?" he asked huskily.

"I just needed to know you were real. I love you. You touch me with your heart. You are in my soul and a part of me. I hope you didn't settle. You could have had anyone before... before the accident." she said.

"Work was my mistress then. My dear sweat wonderful beautiful exasperating Cait. It is I who should be asking that question. I am too old for you, too set in my ways and I don't deserve you. What will your mother say? What do you see in me that makes you love me? After what David -" he started to say.

She put two soft fingers on his lips and he so wanted to suck and kiss them.

"Michael could it possibly be that we were meant for each other. You are unlike any man I have ever met... If you ever shut me out... Understand that you make me crazy and I care -" she was interrupted.

"Let's just say that I thank the stars for you coming to Italy. I have a string that is tied here under my rib and it is attached to there under your rib. Please don't break it or let go. When I deserve it least... love me, love me and don't let go." He said with a tear in his eye.

She leaned over him and slowly sipped his lips. The kiss started out tender and more demanding. He switched positions and with his strong arms rubbed his chest against her breasts...

In the afterglow, their sweat cooled. She grabbed the sheet and put her head on his chest. That comforting beat was lulling her to sleep and she felt the steady rhythm of his chest.

No words or sounds... This was love


End file.
